


Midnight

by MagicMatty



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Rainbow Rowell - Fandom
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, M/M, Magic, Other, SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMatty/pseuds/MagicMatty
Summary: Kind of another way the 5th year scene could have gone down? It was originally gonna end in a slow burn love thing ( I wrote out and planned out the whole thing too, about 8 pages worth of work before i started writing for real ) but never was finished, sadly. So all you get is some overly detailed angst. ( Overdetailed for distraction purposes lmao)





	Midnight

**_\-----------------------------------------------------------------_ **

**_5th year, The Brink of Winter_ **

****

**_Simon._ **

_Thump, thump, thump, creak, click._

_That was my cue._

I wait about 30 seconds, letting him get well down the stairs. My eyes dart around the room, waiting patiently for the seconds to pass.

_Okay. . ._

_1,_

_2,_

_3!_

 I shoot up from my bed, tossing my duvet to the side as I reach for my Watford cloak. I pull a deep sigh out of my chest before slowly making my way up to the door, my wand tucked away in my front pocket. (Not that I’d use it, most likely.)

I’d been following this routine for 3 weeks, almost a month now to keep on his trail. Baz’s trail.

Now, one may ask, why _would I_ routinely _follow someone I hated for a month, when I could be sleeping or studying?_

For bloody answers, of course!

Here’s the thing: I have finally had enough of questioning, be questioned, observing to conjure up some reason, only thinking that he was what he was. So, I made the decision to start following him, every night when he’d randomly up and leave. It had been like this for 4 years, so obviously I would get tired of not knowing what he was doing, where he was, why he went out so prevalently. Keep tabs on him to make sure he isn’t blowing up the school. But mostly, for my own theory’s concerns.

_Oh, so now you_ theorize _over your Nemesis-?_ YES, I’M AWARE IT SOUNDS OBSESSEIVE.

But he was something else, honest! Something not human . . . Not _alive._

Basiltons’ a _vampire._

There’s no other explanation, really. The pale skin, sensitivity to sun, never getting sick, the physical embodiment of a Disney villain, and that ghastly widows peak of his. And, the obvious leaving every night, to do what else, drink blood? No one would break school rules for a stroll around the _court yard._

So, at this point, I’ve lived with him for 5 years now, and believe I can make that call!

(But there a couple of conflicting points as well; For instance, his eyes. They’re more alive than the people’s around him half of the time, so very alive. The way they act in the sunlight is weird, too. A good kind of weird. . . I don’t think the undead could have soul in their eyes. Does he still have a soul? Probably. . . - Also, he eats garlic. That’s an important point as well.)

Though, I digress. So far, I’d had made minimal progress, losing him constantly or never even being able to find him in the first place. The catacombs were twisty anyways, and kind of scary. Especially when you can’t use a torch because it would blow your cover. And lately, he hadn’t even been down there.

I thought maybe he had started going somewhere entirely new, was getting ahead of me, _something._

But that was until I remembered something: The Wavering Wood.

_Of-course_ he’d go there! The place was jam packed with game, for one, and two, it’s one of the most off campus parts of what’s outside of the walls. (Besides the fields. Though, I think Ebb would notice a lack in goats after a while.)

And if he was willing to go to the catacombs without anyone’s permission or concern, then he’d find a way to make it to the wood. _Damn,_ I’m good!

 I’d been following him there for a while, almost catching him in the act numerous times-y’know, _the act._ \- or end up risking too much to be able to continue, because being caught is the last thing I’d want. He’d hold it over me for life, even after we’d part ways. When I’m Headmaster, and he’s sat upon his dark throne of evil, or whatever. . .

But tonight, was different. I was near determined to confront him, and stop this, whether we just argue for a while, he lights the place on fire, I light it on fire, or we fight until we can’t anymore. I’d walk straight up to him and give em’ what it’s worth, all this time I’ve wasted to just basically prove something for myself and the school.

So now, here I stood, opening the door and making my way out to find him.

_Thump, thump, thump, creak, click._

 

**_Baz._ **

_“Merlin, it’s cold. Why didn’t I bring a coat?”_

I sighed as I trudged along through the snow, my breath visible enough to where I could see each puff escape. Almost like the winter’s reminder that I’m alive. 

_Oh, how I wish it were true sometimes._

If I were alive, I’d be very happily in bed currently, not having to worry about some thirst for blood that nearly drives me insane if I don’t get my fix. Not freezing cold in the midst of fucking November, where I even can’t conjure my own body heat. ‘Wonder what that’s like sometimes, honestly.

I shove a hand through my hair, slicking it back as I make my way into the wood, it only growing colder as I get farther in. The chill nips at my skin, and I start to wonder why I didn’t bring my gloves either. I’m sure Snow is just now sitting there stumped, again, trying to figure out how I got over the moat without getting eaten alive by merwolves.

_‘Crowley, stop saying you’re alive. You know exactly what you are. ‘_

I only rolled my eyes at myself, not bothering to give it a thought. (Why encourage it?) I only continued along, waiting for prey and that rustle of leaves, or handful of footsteps that let me know that Snow has caught up already. I swear he gets slower every time we do this. It’s most likely a stealth tatic of his.

And yes, of course I know he follows me. It really doesn’t surprise me that he doesn’t know that either. It’s hilarious to think about sometimes, really. He’s all spy, but no secret.  Typical of him, honestly though, to just think he’s some _James Bond_ character.

_‘Despite himself, he definitely has the_ looks _for one. ‘_

I made a low growling noise at myself for thinking like that again. (For magicks sake, I’m acting like him now _. Get out of my head, Simon Snow, get out.)_

_‘Again‘_ was an understatement. More like, for the fifth-hundreth time in the last three hours.  The billionth time in the last 5 years. It’s a sad confession, and it’s been like this since Year 1. And this year, being as confused as I can be and as hated as I could feel, they’ve only gotten louder, and Snow hasn’t given me a moments worth of peace to sort it out.

My hands fly up to my head to pull at hair at the root some, shaking it slightly as my pace gets quicker through the forest. But quicker pace for me is full speed for the average person, and I just keep going faster. For a second, I think I’m just gliding.

_Can he just leave me alone, for one second?_

 I stumble into a clearing, stars brightening up the land around me, clots of raven coloured clouds only covering some of them. Animals run away from me as quick as they can from the sudden crack of noise, like thunder splitting through the night. Not what I wanted, but it’s understandable.

I angrily huff and puff for a second, furious that he made his way even into my mind. Thoughts span in my head like a carousel. He wasn’t even here for the show yet, but he could just intrude like this whenever he wanted. And it’s my fault. It’s been my fault for so very long.

_Can my mind have a break from being in love, in the most pitiful way imaginable, for one fucking minute?_

 

**_Simon._ **

****

_“Good Agatha Christie, “_ I pant out, running quickly into the brush of the wood, the bottom of my cloak dripping with moat water, freezing under the temperature as I had just come across a handful of mer-wolves that looked to be exceptionally hungry.

“How does he do that every night? _“_ I whisper hoarsely to myself, magicking away branches and leaves out of the path quietly with **_“Make way for the King!”_** , moonlight spilling onto the ground through the small slivers of space between each and every leaf and needle.

‘ _Probably his vampire powers._ ‘I roll my eyes a bit, my head tossing back with it. ‘ _Lucky bastard. ‘_

In some ways, his vampire-ness makes him better than me. Of-course it does.

 I was about 2 minutes behind Baz, intentionally so maybe his super-sonic hearing wouldn’t pickup on my presence. So far, I think it’s worked. Or maybe I just have yet to realize how little it’s really working. He might’ve just pretended not to notice to let me humiliate myself a bit. Get a good laugh while he just waits for me to get there, enjoying his little feast.

_Something he’d do, the prick._

I groan quietly as I get closer to a clearing, the path only getting tighter, hoping that the tree branches would lessen as I went- Wait, there he is.

I stop in my tracks, almost slipping over a litter of frozen leaf’s and dead grass below my feet. Gosh, I’m gonna die before I can even carry out this mission of mine. Won’t even be alive to see him laugh at my failure.

Shaking off the thought, I crouch down behind a dark rose bush, careful not to let the thorns press into my skin. And there he is,Pitch himself, all happily wrapped up in his dinner.

Instantly, I’m hit with a wave of satisfaction _. ‘I was damn right all along! ‘_ My mind going into a fit of dopamine, a small smirk displaying itself onto my face. I grab the ends of the cranberry coloured scarf wrapped tightly around my neck, rubbing them together like some evil genius, but also to control some excited sparks of magic.

_He was a vampire! I had known it all along, but here was my actual proof for myself, right there in front of me-_

“Crowley!” I yelped quietly, my arm making an encounter with three or four rose thorns. The lovely piece of excitement I had obtained instantly retracted into itself, dread filling my heart to replace it. Oh, I’d done it now. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

Instantly, Baz pulls his head away from his dinner, dropping the half alive creature in his milky white hands. It scuries off into the night, its neck slick with its own blood, shining metallic in the pale light. It was probably off to lay down and go die somewhere. Sounds better than having the life literally sucked out of him like a juice box. But, back to freaking out:

_FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-_

“Who goes there?” Baz says in his cool, show boaty voice. Of-freakin-course he’d choose such a set of words, just to sound more like a self-entitled arse.

I held my breath for a solid 10 seconds, the silence in the air thick with anticipation. I was contemplating to call for my sword, since we were outside of the room-mate anathemas. He wouldn’t kill me, I know, but he might take a swing at it if he’s feeling extra villain like.

  _Fuck._

 

**_Baz._ **

 

_After my mini meltdown-_ which was quickly resolved, - I managed to spot a handful of animals, making my way to a handful of brush that was to my left to snatch one of the creatures up.

For a while now, though, the breakdowns and moments of unbearable heart ache or guilt over Snow have been more and more prevalent. Mostly because he’s been following me. It used to be one after a sudden jolt of jealousy when he’d hold Agatha’s hand, or touch her hair a certain way, have a special glint in his eyes for her (And not for me.).

When I was still figuring things out, and Simon had just began dating Agatha, I thought maybe the jealousy came from her touching him. That maybe I wanted Agatha, all platinum strands of silks and clotted cream coloured skin, roses gently blended into her cheeks.

That was, until, I realized who I was really looking at when they were together. That Simon was really what made her glow. He was the sun, and she just laid as a flower. She soaked up his light to help her beauty, but we all know who gave it to her.

Bronze crushes of curls, delicately placed moles and paint brush splattered freckles, a millennia of colour locked into his eyes that were just so hard to ignore.

That’s when my freak outs got worse, when the realization struck.

It set me afire every time I’d look at him. (Which is funny, given how flammable I am. Shows how easy I made it for him.) But while it put me into a fire, like paper to an ember, all warm and lovely, it burned. It scorched each and every part of my skin to know I’d never have a chance of giving him the same feeling he’d given me.

And now, knowing he was chasing me down every time I went out, my mind couldn’t handle it. First it was a couple of thoughts given to him a day, then it was day dreams, and even regular dreams, and now he’s warped my vision and taken up my whole mind. I can’t have a minute to myself, not one to sort myself out, or even have a blissful thought or two with knowing he was always there, just watching.  Watching emotion after emotion pass over my face, forcing me to keep it all down until I’m left in the dark of our room, silence being filled with my own thoughts. And even at night, I don’t know how much he stares at me while I even try to rest my mind from him.

And I’m still scared to this hour, that one day I’ll get too close to his flame, become too engulfed and I’ll lose myself and him entirely.

And with that, I must work quickly. I’d rather be stared at all night, letting him have his security that I’m not off plotting his death, than be his un-dead spectacle to prove his stupid speculations. (No matter how true they are.)

My hands shove quickly into a thieves’ bush, pulling out a quite hefty rabbit from the sort. Its tan fur shines in the light, his whiskers shaking in indefinite fear. I click my tongue a couple times, shaking my head from side to side ever so slightly. After a while of taking animals lives, I had lost the remorse after killing them, but not the remorse of what I was actually doing. (That being, draining their life force out of them.) So, I let it revel in its last moments for a second.

“I am sorry I have to do this, really. I’m sure you’ve lived a plentiful life.” I said, cocking my head to the side before tucking into it, drinking from it in small amounts, like sipping the wine my father would always serve with dinner when I was home. I could feel a twitch of life still left in the rabbits thumping leg, weakly begging to get away. I felt a pang of sorry for it, but it was too late now.

I was barely into drinking it before a quick shake of a tree and a soft ‘ouch ‘alerted me that Simon had finally found his way. I startled back some, dropping the rabbit. And as I predicted, it still had some life in it. Enough to run off into the eerie darkness. of the wood.  _Blasted, Snow, you made me lose my dinner for your fucking game._

Letting out a tired sigh, I whipped behind myself, wand in hand, pointing towards the place where the noise came from. I wouldn’t cast a spell, obviously, but it does make me look more fit for a fight.

“Who goes there?” I call out sternly, holding my ground praying I don’t look a fool with blood smeared against my lips. Maybe it’ll give them a tad bit more colour instead.

I could feel the quiet settle in, someone’s breath catching as soon as I speak.  I wait a solid 30 seconds, not shifting my wait or hardly breathing.  Finally, I groan folding my arms, my chin upturned as I speak. “Snow…”

In a sequence of whispers and a quick rustle of leaves, an armed Simon snow makes his way out of the thickness of the forest. And by Merlin’s name, I could feel all the blood in me rush to my face, my whole body going light and airy as soon as I see him. It’s like walking into a warm home after being kept into the cold for too long, once you’re even near him

But, of-course, I kept my composure steady. My brow narrows as I look to him, sneering slightly. “What do _you_ want, at such a time and place like this?”

He growls quickly, a very weird habit of his. He sounds like an animal half of the time or he looks like one. Like something I’d want to eat. (Now this, this is why I deem myself hopeless. Describing him constantly as things that could fuel me or kill me, like that’s a good thing.)

“Ask that to yourself. You know why I’m here.” Snow speaks through half gritted teeth, his face pulled into a contortion of slight aggravation. Not as aggressive as he usually is, but damn well on the edge. It was hilarious to just have him fume, just from a quick look or quote from me, giving me a sense of control over this one little part of him. A part that brought emotion from him, because of me. And while I’d rather it be a lustful want for me, not my life, beggars just can’t be choosers.

“Oh _, what?_ ” I say in a teasing tone, a surely irritating smirk on my face. (Wasn’t I feeling brave?)  “To prove I’m some evil plotting genius, once and for all?” I took a couple confident steps toward him, my arms wrapped around my back now. “Get me killed, or worse, expelled?” I do a Hermione Granger for that one, the references relevance almost amusing.

 For a second, I think about getting close. Just for dramatic effect and to scare him, and honestly to get a moment to look at him again. Looking at him was like staring at art - it made you feel something. Scarily enough, sometimes his eyes will shift in colour just enough to resemble Starry Night. By Merlin’s Beard, I swear someone hand painted his. They’re art within and wrapped up in itself.

I decide against my anxieties, and go to Simon now, swooping under a bit once I meet my eyes to his, leaving only about three-inch space between our noses. His slightly round, short and scrunched up - given his facial expression-, mine long and coming to a full stop at the bottom. I got it from my mother, pulling traits from her Egyptian side of the family. I flick my wand from behind my back and under his chin, definitely making him want to snap at me like a dog now if he didn’t want to already

Aleister Crowley, he was beautiful up close. It’s like I’m look at him under a microscope. All rounded features, little curls of metallic pulled down in front of his eyes, and his aggressively pink lips didn’t help. (Or maybe I’m so used to my pale ones, it just makes his all the more vibrant.)

“Maybe I will.” Snow threatens with a snarl. His hand accompanied by his sword tightens, raising just a bit. I reach my hand towards the blade, pushing the blunt edge of it down away from me, my fingers dangerously close to his. He probably see’s this all as a fight, an opening for a battle. But me, on the other hand, have a million erotically hopeless thoughts racing through my mind currently over everything.

I gently laugh at him, making sure the condescending tone makes it through.  “No, you wouldn’t.” My wand pushes forward up, tilting his face up a bit more only to reveal more neck from under his chin. I know exactly where I’d bite him if given the chance, and how I’d do it. I stare at the spot as I speak. “You would be lost with me gone, all bored and nothing to do. Like a cattle dog without a task.” Quickly with that, Simon raises his empty hand to toss my arm away, but I willingly let mine go down with his, so now he’s just holding tightly onto my wrist. Eye to eye, hand to hand, menacingly staring at each other waiting for the other to break.

“You’re too craven to swing that blasted sword of yours at me anyways, Chosen One.” I hiss at him, dangerously close to his face now, watching his eyes soften a bit. I think I might kiss him. Maybe, maybe not now. He’s forgotten to pull his hand way from my wrist, and I think I might just get it over with, whether it kills me or not.  Such a small, insignificant moment, and I had to go and make it something I’ll remember forever or be lost in right before I’m thrown into my final death.

And then he pulls his eyes away, scowling as he throws my arms down like weights. He stumbles backwards, clumsily regaining composure. I hold my nose high, crossing my arms, placing a hip out to the left as he looks at me with a narrowed expression. 

He speaks softly, sheathing his sword back into nothingness, his magic glimmering around where it once was.

“Why do you always have to do that?”

 

 

 

**_Simon._ **

 

_Why did he always have to do that?_

_‘You know very well why he does it, Simon._ ’ I tell myself. _‘To win every time.’_

That was true. He has to always win. Get the last word, the last laugh, be the cherry on top of fucking everything. And he can be, he really can, because he’s just so fucking smart. I wouldn’t ever admit it to him, but he’s the smartest person I know. Besides Penny, but he’s a different kind of smart.

Book smart, yes, as he’s top of the class, but in every other department, absolutely. Baz can make you shiver with fear with the turn of a phrase, make you hate him then want to fall at his knees with a flick of his wrist. (Quite literally, I think, sometimes. He must have magicked someone stupid in the past to extol his name.)

He can make you fall in love fifty times over for him, with a grab of the hand and a serious enough glint in his eye. And in most ways, Baz is and can be better than me if really wanted it. But even now, he doesn’t even try and he’s already beating me to the nines.

And I hate it. I fucking hate it.

I scoff at him, pulling at the ends of my scarf again, realizing how cold my hands actually were. (Christ, it has to be -6 out.)  “Because it’s amusing. At least to me,” Baz says, giggling evilly behind his wand occupied hand. (Can you even evilly giggle? Is that a thing. Way to go, Basilton, making things and stuff!)

“Yeah, it’s very much just you.” I say simply, tugging the sleeves of my Watford sweater down my arms, out from under my coat. Merlin, he was aggravating. Sometimes I just wanted to smack his stupid, pale grin off his pristine face and get things over with physically. Though he probably has had like, ninja training for events like that. Still, once again, he’s better than me!

Finally, the amusement wears out and his smile dims, leaving only a brightness in his eyes. His hand shifts to his right side, his wand dangling from careful fingers, displaying him-self in a lofty position. “Alright, Snow, no more off topic mess. What do you want now?”

I sigh, my breath floating into the air around me gently as I cross my arms, staring at him as my eyes level with his. “I want to know why you’re out here.” I try speaking firmly as I can, matching his current persona.

“And believe me, I already know the reason why you’re out in the middle of the fucking forest at this time of night, I know!” Exasperatedly, I throw my hands into the air, bringing them down with a smack against my thighs. He blinks quickly as I do but keeps his flat expression like he was bored with me.

“But, I’d love to hear your side of the story. Please, give me a reason for your behaviour, O, Great One.” My sarcastic attitude pulls through, letting myself just be annoying as hell.

Let him be annoyed, honestly. If I’m going to get anything out of tonight, let it be his frustrated scowls and tight fists keeping him up till dusk. Let him be infuriated all week long over this. Let me have something, for once.

“Checking up on me, are we?” Baz cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy, raising his thumb and index finger to the bottom of his sharply drawn chin. It’s like someone took charcoal and slashed out the bottom. “How benevolent of you.” He finishes flatly, sarcasm filtering his voice, a glare flickering in his eyes.

I roll my eyes so far it hurts. I make an almost growl like noise in the bottom of my throat. He couldn’t just make things easy, now could he? I throw my hand out to the side, leaning slightly towards his direction before speaking. “Could you just tell me already? You aren’t getting around this, Basilton.”

A slight movement of expression passes over his long, drawn out face at the sound of me using his full name. (Well, one of many. He’s got one of those fancy, passed down from father-to-father names that’s at least, what, 6 words long? He sounds like some high prince from a fairy tale.)

I can tell he’s done playing with me now, stricken with a sudden jolt of frustration.

“I’m minding my own business, thank you very much. Maybe you should take notes.” He snaps back, turning slightly to look away from me like some snobbish fancy mutt.

I groan in desperation, pulling my hands up to my hair. I guess he _is_ going to find a way around this.

“Alright, fine! You want a call out instead? Will that make it easier for you?” I exclaim, setting my jaw in so hard I can feel my teeth beginning to ache. I take another set of steps forward, my moves just taking after one emotion after the other.

“Maybe it will! For you, at least. Because everything is just for you, isn’t it!” He yells back, his voice solid as stone as it raises, not bothering to waver.

“Oh, so we’re pulling that card now, huh?” I can feel myself getting more and more aggravated, my fingertips growing hot with red. “Why don’t you just man up and take your title? What are you Basil, **_what are you?_** ” Barking back like a dog, my magic begins to wriggle to the top of my skin, glowing red as flames.

Silence fell throughout the clearing, my echo fading off into the trees till it couldn’t be heard anymore. Magic had been pulled through those words, letting it ring out a bit longer than it should have. I felt a bit of remorse, for some reason, after doing that. Though, I was still all pulled into a knot, shoulders high and I think the ends of my hair were smoking. I was literally fuming, at this point.

Baz, on the other hand, is all the way around now, his back to me. His shoulders are drawn up high as well, and his arms looked to be all crossed in front of him. He stayed like that for half a minute, but it felt like twenty. I felt like reaching forward to check on him, maybe even just tapping his shoulder. What if he was _crying_? What if _I_ made him cry? And why did I care so much… Why did I feel like I just kicked someone who didn’t deserve it?

He wasn’t making a sound or moving an inch, which didn’t help my concern. It was kind of scary to watch though… Still and pristine as a statue, his black hair darker than night under the moon, his skin nearly transparent like someone took the frame of a person and draped a white curtain over it.

And has anyone else ever noticed how his hair falls? It’s so nearly perfect, as if someone sewed it on the way you’d make a doll. All perfectly aligned, fine black locks pooling to a wavy stop at the bottom.  Everything about him was near ethereal, really. It was aggravating to think about. Penny would suggest he spells it that way every morning like Agatha, (to which, she still denies as fact.) But I’ve lived with him for five years now, every insufferable minute of it, and he’s just that good. No spells, powders, and definitely no plastic surgery. Baz is just… unbearably perfect.

I startle a bit when he finally moves, slowly turning on the heel of his plain brown Doc Marten dress shoes (Most definitely a gift from his Aunt Fiona.) to face towards me.

Baz’s aura had shifted almost entirely, and his face looked like he was either about to cry or slice my throat at any second. His hands were tight, wand still intact, but he held it like a dagger. I could smell his magic now, tobacco and fresh leather, sage burning. All just wafting through the air, a burning feeling buzzing at my fingertips. (And it’s not from the fire that’s currently livid against my skin, even if it’s dying down. Slowly but surely.)

“Do you really think,” He starts, a sad laugh accompanying his words, his hair falling over his eyes gently to where I can’t see them. The tone in his voice made me feel awful. “That I’m _proud_ of it? I’m proud of the people that I’m associated with? That I think _my mother_ , who was murdered by the asses that made me what I am today, would be proud of me?” Baz turns his head up to look at me, his eyes glaring daggers straight in to mine.

“Guess you wouldn’t even begin to know. All you’ve ever been proud of, was the title you were given before you were even aware magic _existed_. I was given mine before I could even begin to take care of myself.” His voice cracks, like he’s about to break out into a fit of tears, pacing in front of me.

“And what am I, Snow? What am I?” He pulls a hand to his chest, grimacing in disdain as he repeats the question I asked a moment ago.

Then he turns quickly to stare at me, aggression building up in his face as I stumble back some, my fire going out more and more to be taken over by the strong influence of his magic.  “For Magicks’ sake, I’m a vile, blood eating, baby killing monster; What more to be proud of?” Yelling at me, tears pool up in his eyes, and he doesn’t bother to blink them away. For the same but still odd reason, I have the urge to rid of them myself. I want to tell him the exact opposite of what he said he was.

“I’m a vampire, an evil villain.” His voice begins to grow, slowly getting deeper and reverberating through the trees. “Is that what you wanted, my confession? My last words before you go off **and _kill me?”_**

Baz’s voice booms through-out the forest, his magic surely helping him do that one. The loudest I’d ever heard someone was when Penelope used **_‘Hear ye, Hear ye! ‘_** To call for me when she was half way across a field.

_Ow. That’s what that feels like._

It gets quiet, quick, not a breath or an animal to be heard. Just Baz dangerously close to me again, but this time with a threatening glare and not a suave attitude to distract from his personal, passive-aggressive attacks. A couple of tears roll down his cheeks, and I try to contain myself from helping; It’s like I’m watching a puppy get upset over a small fright, leaving me just desperately wanting to make things okay for them. I think my fire’s gone out now, but the smell of smoke is still there. My hearts racing again, beating hard against my chest. I hope he can’t hear it. _‘Is this loathing? Pity? Hatred? ‘_

Another impulse kicks in, but this time I fall into it. I take Baz by the shoulder, and my other hand lands on his upper arm. I squeeze ever so gently. Just to, y’know, hold him up so he doesn’t fall onto me. And because I want to.

And I also think I’m not as upset anymore. I guess that’s why my magic let up; Now it’s just coursing through me. Still there, present, but in a good, continuous way.

Christ. . . One second, I hate him, the next I’m dying to help him, like he’s a baby I need to swaddle from the cold. (I should, really. He’s shaking beneath me grasp.)

A secret I want to save for myself and no one else.

I want to hold him and just let him know every thing’s okay.

_Stop being so all over the damn place, Simon._

**_Baz._ **

_Why does he keep looking at me like that? Why is he holding me? What is he_ doing?

_Simon Snow, whatever shall I do about you?_

We’ve stayed like this for the past minute, much longer than we did last time before he pulled away.

But this time, he hasn’t pulled away. And I’m not sure if he wants to. Every time I’ve twitched or move, I could feel his grip tighten just a bit; Now, I’ve just given in. Do what I wanted to do in the first place, and just be near him. Within his moment. Despite how utterly confused and love stricken I am, I’ve managed to stay calm so far.

I stopped crying and shaking, and the anger from before has melted away. Mostly because Snow’s went away too. He softened randomly, and my heart couldn’t help but follow along. I heard from somewhere that when you listen to music, your heart mimics the beat. Mine does that, but instead it just follows Snow’s. Or feed’s off him, I presume, drinking up as much as it can of him.

 Fact: Not only can Simon’s fire light you up ad keep you going as well, his calm comforting _everything_ can coerce you into sleep if he tries hard enough. (I’ve experienced first-hand. In Third Year, he was studying at around 1 AM, and I had been tired all day, and restless that night. He was reading a passage from a book aloud, because he kept getting frustrated from not being able to really grasp the info just from whispering it. He didn’t really care if I got any sleep in the first place I don’t think, and maybe he did it out of pure spite, like he wanted me to stay awake. But instead, I fell asleep by the fifth line. It was like a lullaby of sorts.

He had a kind of drawl on his voice, and I swear it was an infliction of magic. He’s all kinds of magic anyways.)

Gently, I move my hands down, placing them on his shoulders with his hands still on them, while I stare at his chest. I watch its quick rise and fall, pulling away from his eyes for a second. I got him worked up for sure. (Could I not tell from the flickering heat that was rolling off his skin earlier?)

His heart was beating fast too. As close as I was, I could basically feel the bump of it ringing out through his ribs.

And while I’m trying to take in every moment of this I can, I can’t help but wonder- no, _panic_ wondering why he’s doing this. He hasn’t let go, made a single angry noise, looked away, and of-course, his heart.

_He couldn’t possibly. . ._

His hands briskly moved up some, letting his fingers drag along the length of my arm. I take a shaky breath, and instantly regret it.

_He’d would never. . ._

Snow’s hand meets the base of mine, and I swear to Merlin’s Beard, if he grabs it, I may lose myself entirely. Meekly, he bites his lip, and now I think he’s set _me_ on fire.

_For magic’s sake, I’m certain he couldn’t. . ._

Slowly, Snow slides his hand into mine, tangle his fingers in between mine and doesn’t even grasp it. He just let them rest there, like he’s too cautious to just take it head on. I want to take his now, finish the other ten percent for him. Then take all hundred percent of our kiss. I can feel my panic hit the brim and pour out until it lessens.

I look up from the space keeping us apart mostly, and he looks drunk. I don’t know if it’s magic or lust, or maybe I’ve literally put him under some sort of spell with out realizing it. Snow has a little flustered smile on his lips, and I giggle lightly at it. At this point, who cares about some sort of condescending tone making its way through? Embarrassment is the least of my worries. We’re past that.

His eyes shoot up to look at me as soon as I laugh, and it instantly pulls out of me. Instead, he’s brought upon an even redder blush, drawing back my head just a tad. Crowley, I’m gonna be lightheaded.

Now we’re just looking at each other, and I think this is the moment. Where the good fight ends.

Actually, fuck that. It was never a good fight. I’ve hated all these years, and all I wished for was an end. Every falling star, every birthday, _whatever._ The fight had gone on for too long, and I had just waited for something to end it.

This passes all of my wildest dreams.

Snow sways a bit, and now I’m sure he’s getting ready to kiss me. I pray to God that my fangs have drawn back by now. My eyes dim some, and I prepare myself to just go in head on. I can’t believe this. It’s all a dream I know it. I can’t _believe_ it.

That is until. . .

He pull’s away quickly, snapping out of his daze. I take a second longer to come out of mine, and I do when he let’s go of my hands and the cold invades the dead air in them now.

_He wouldn’t ever love me._

 

**_Simon._ **

****

_I can barely remember anything up until now._ All I remember honestly, is warmth and Baz’s lips. Just watching them. And the weird tingly feeling from before is still there.

From what I gather, I was holding Baz, (And now I want to again. I just let him go, and I can’t help but want to pull him from the ground and _actually_ carry him.) completely in a moment of. . . some sort of emotion. Until I hear something in the thick of the trees.

_Grrr. . ._

At first, I think it’s Baz. Like he was about to bite me and suck me dry, and I started to float to the top when I start to think that maybe this was a trap.

Until a pair of giant glowing red eyes emerge from the dark, and I feel panic fill up in my chest.

As soon as I pull away from Baz, he’s still lost in the heat of it all, so he just stand’s there like a toddler that can find his mom in Costco. Which is comical, until you realize that also means he’s helpless. And is entirely unaware of what’s happening around him. Therefore, my first instinct isn’t to grab my sword or asses the situation, but guard Basil with my whole being (literally, I’m standing in front of him.) right after I had pulled it _away_ from him.

You can imagine how confused he is currently.

“What. . . what the _fuck_ is going _on?”_ Baz whispers, his voice sounding like he’s coming full circle now. Slowly but surely, of-course.

“Um, well, “ I reply, my sword now drawn, raised stiffly above my chest. Whatever was coming towards us is just getting closer, and faster.

 “How about you just look for yourself? Make your own judgment. “ Maybe that’ll snap him out of his daze entirely.

He peeks out from around my shoulder, keeping a hand on it as he walks out from behind me. I turn my eyes away from the beast to glance at him, then back like I’m trying to pay attention but also keep my eyes on the road. And what I catch is a wide eyed Basilton, frantically grabbing for his wand before coming back to behind me. But instead of hiding, he’s pressed his against it and is turning us slightly.

“Good _Christ_ , Snow, what did you do? “ He half screams behind me, making my ears ring. Could he use his inside voice, for once? Was that too much to ask?

“I-! I didn’t-! But-! This wasn’t my-,”

_“For fuck’s sake, spit it out! “_ Baz’s voice raises quickly, determination set in his face.

Ah. I knew he couldn’t be someone else for too long now.

My frustration spikes as he speaks, causing me to raise my tone again. Back to our old ways so quickly? Expected.

“I didn’t cause this! If anyone did, it was you! You raised a holy _fit_ and it caused to wake something from its hibernation. So, what the hell did _you_ do, Baz? “

“Absolutely nothing, “ A defensive tone infiltrates his voice, now turning to look at me. “I wouldn’t have gotten upset if you hadn’t of aggravated the shit out of me and almost broke me! Which, I must say, you did quite well. “

_Did-? Did nothing from a minute ago happen? Did I black out into some weird fever dream?_

“Ohoho, pulling the blame card now, Baz? “ I turn to look at him now, crossing my arms and cocking my head to the right. “Seems a little bland for your taste. “

“You stupid git, you pulled it first! “

“But I thought maybe you’d be mature enough to not copy some one else, Mister. . . _Mature._ “

“So, you finally admit I’m more mature than you? “

“. . .That’s not what I meant, and you know it! “

We’re completely ignoring the situation, bantering on and overlapping each-others remarks. I can’t even begin to understand him and I’m sure I’m just as indecipherable.

We only stop when we’re scared out of our fucking skins by a loud and very prominent **_HISSS!_**

Quickly, Baz put’s us back-to-back again, the both of us pointing our respective tools of weaponry at the beast. (Now I’m talking like him. Lovely. Absolutely lovely.)

Baz’s breath is heavy, slow inhales and exhales coming in and making their way out, his eyes dead set on whatever’s coming towards us. And instead of watching too, (Which I should be doing) I watch him for a moment. I don’t think he notices, given how pre-occupied he currently is. (Like, preparing for life or death.)

I only look away when the rustling gets closer, louder. And what emerges from it is just – Oh joy! – A giant snake. His pearl black eyes almost luminescent under the moon, long ivory fangs peeking out from the folds of his mouth, slick shiny scales racing all along his back in shades of blue and silver – Kind of looked like how you’d describe water at night. Dark, streaks of shining metallic, etc. etc. I think Baz seems to notice how amazing it is as well. He’s always had some sort of fascination with magical creature.

Honestly, I think he’s kind of beautiful. – The snake, not Baz. Though. . . never mind.  Anyways, the creature is near ethereal. It acts like it was a staff that came to life. That weird Bible story where some dude turns his walking cane to a python to prove the power of God? He’s _that_ snake. All mighty and glorious in its own ways.

Now, I have reason to believe that its beauty is a battle strategy. Because as me and Baz are just entranced, the snake’s expression goes from graceful to evil, and lets out a blood curdling scream-like hiss, instantly knocking us both out of our gaping awe. I scream in return, and Baz only rolls his eyes at me, like my fear was nonsensical. Even though he _is_ shaking in place himself. But I don’t mention that part. Embarrassing Basil is the least of my worries, currently.

Because protecting him is most of them.  


**_Baz._ **

_Simon-fucking-Snow is a great, bumbling idiot._

Now, now, don’t go off telling me he isn’t. Don’t tell me he’s brave and courageous, The Chosen one, whatever term’s people use to make him sound important. Because I already know all that, and yes, it’s all true.

But he’s also an idiot. A really adorable one.

I have proof he is as well. For instance, he thinks that I didn’t realize him staring just a minute ago. Like the rest of the blood in my body hadn’t just ran to my face. (It really was the last bit, and now I feel like I’m going to fall over. _Curse you, Snow, and your confused self.)_

And if that didn’t convince you, take this moment as good example;

My wand is struck up at the snake’s face, my hands steady while my arms quiver from pure fear. Snow’s shoulder-to-shoulder with me now, and I beg to Merlin he doesn’t notice me shaking.

The python stares us down, black eyes piercing through my gaze, like it’s deciding which one to eat first. _The barely alive one or the really loud one?_

“So, “I whisper towards Simon, making sure my eyes stay on the python. “What’s the first course of action? Fight or flee, what? “

“Fight, of-course. “ He responds in a low tone, cutting his eyes between me and the snake to make sure it doesn’t lose it’s focus on us. “We have to. “

“ _We?_ So, we’re fighting together now? “ I act like I’m baffled, but really I’m not. Even if he hates me, he wouldn’t turn down a helper. (Though I’m not sure if he really does hate me at this point.)

“I would think! It’s a fucking snake that _you_ helped to bring about! So yes, we’re doing this together. “ He puts a weird emphasis on ‘together’ and I think I might fall over.

“Fine, fine. I can admit my fault.” I swear that he mutters “Surprising. “under his breath. I choose to ignore it. “But since you’re making me, you make the decisions here. Where do we even begin, do I take the back, the face, wh- “

Simon barely gives me a minute to finish my sentence before he answers, an excited look of determination on his face. “Just follow my lead.” He replies briskly with a cheeky smile, as if that’s just an easy thing to do. And what he does is more or less expected.

He then barrels towards the beast, blade held high above his shoulder and a battle cry erupting from him like a trumpet went off.

_Is he seriously about to take a swing at this thing?_

“That’s not a fucking _lead_ , you wank.” I rasp under at my breath, my eyes rolling back at his idiocrasy. He doesn’t pay attention, and just goes straight to strategically making his way ‘round the monster. Articulate step after step, making sure it’s not able to reach him. It strikes at him a couple times, and he just takes them like it’s an advantage, getting missed by a brush on the nose.

Honestly, I should just up and leave right now. Sneak out while he’s almost getting eaten alive. Die already, make my life a bit easier!

But I don’t. . . I watch his confidence lessen every time the beast loops around him to attempt to nip at his body. His eyes filling with worry, strained lines of fear creasing through his face. And then he looks at me as if to say, _‘Where are you?’_

Instead of going away and forgetting any of this happened, I let the guilt pang through me, groaning loudly and take a step forwards, before running towards his war. Because I know leaving him would ruin. . . whatever we had earlier. And I know I wouldn’t be able to handle his death. It would be my fault too, because I could have just stayed. I could have helped, and instead I let my stubbornness get in the way.

But not now. Not today.

Anyway, he _would_ die without me. He’s helpless sometimes. And I wasn’t going to let some damn legless lizard be the one to kill him. That’s my job, to be our endgame.

If I can’t take his heart, I’m going to take his life trying.

 

**_Simon._ **

_I’ve been fighting this thing for a whole minute and I’m seriously considering that maybe Baz did set me up, because he’s just been watching me so far like he’s at a show._

Betsy, (That’s what I’ve decided to call the snake. Kind of annoying to keep referring to it as ‘thing’ or ‘beast’, so a name of sorts seemed fitting.) takes a confident snap at the back of my legs, making me basically bend backwards.

 “Oh, mess off! “ I yell up at it before taking a jab at it with my sword, which makes a lack of difference in its skins (scales?) surface. It must be as thick as a vault, surely.

I look over my shoulder to Baz, who is just standing there like he either has no idea what to do or could literally care less about the situation. Lovely, I’m going to _die,_ and it’ll be Baz’s fault. I’ll have it put on my grave too. _‘Here lies Simon Snow, the Greatest Mage to live who was killed by the hands of a big snake and an insufferable vampire. ‘_

_Snakes don’t even have fucking hands!_

But I’ll be buried under Watford, so I’m sure they’d make it a grandiose thing anyways.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> two month old fic i made and never finished, and dont know if i should. only half of it has been ran through and edited, so excuse if quality drops near the end of the fic.


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